


Breaking the Cycle

by MrSpockify



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Izumi is fine btw, M/M, Ozai (Avatar) Being a Terrible Parent, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Zuko (Avatar) Needs a Hug, and he gets it, now get ready for The Daughter Finds Out, you've heard of The Gaang Finds Out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:20:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25796539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrSpockify/pseuds/MrSpockify
Summary: "Zuko dissolved the flame as quickly as he possibly could, landing hard on his ankle and falling to his knees. Somewhere in the back of his mind he registered that his ankle was probably injured now, but he couldn’t really pay any attention to that. All he could see was the terrified look that had been on his little girl’s face as fire—hisfire—came rushing toward her."After an accident with Izumi, Zuko fears he may be turning out just like his own father.
Relationships: Izumi & Zuko (Avatar), Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 52
Kudos: 1209





	Breaking the Cycle

He left the door open.

Zuko had just come out of a meeting with a representative from the Earth Kingdom, someone who always gave him a hard time. This instance had been no different. He had spent several hours going back and forth with him about trade routes and taxes and restitution, about all of which Zuko had proposed reasonable and fair plans. But it didn’t matter what he offered—it never did with this guy. There was always a canned response in opposition of whatever he said.

So he had left the meeting simultaneously drained and agitated, in dire need of releasing some pent up frustration. Zuko headed straight for the training room to let off some steam. But he had been caught up in his irritation, and he hadn’t been paying attention. He had been an idiot.

He left the door open.

Zuko ran through katas quickly, paying less attention to the accuracy of his forms and more attention to the power behind them. He focused on his breathing, filling his lungs as deeply as he could and exhaling with as much strength as he could muster. The fire erupted from his fists, bright and forceful.

The room lit up with every burst of flame, and Zuko focused on the intensity of it. He felt the heat on his knuckles and let it grow as he breathed out. The fire twisted under the careful control of his fingers, heating his palms, as he shot it out at an invisible target across the room. He bent his knees and jumped, twisting around to throw his whole body into a kick that sent a surge of fire in the opposite direction.

The world froze, falling apart around him.

He left the door open.

Zuko dissolved the flame as quickly as he possibly could, landing hard on his ankle and falling to his knees. Somewhere in the back of his mind he registered that his ankle was probably injured now, but he couldn’t really pay any attention to that. All he could see was the terrified look that had been on his little girl’s face as fire— _his_ fire—came rushing toward her.

Izumi was lying on the floor of the training room, curled into a ball and crying. She looked tiny and helpless. Zuko didn’t know what to do.

It felt like the world around him was slowing down, like his body was trying and failing to wade through mud. He tried to stand, but his legs were shaking and he was almost certain he had sprained his ankle when he fell. Instead, he managed to crawl across the floor to his daughter, feeling as if she was a million miles away.

When he got to her, Zuko reached out to hold her and comfort her, but the sight of his hands over her body sent a wave of fear crashing over him.

He _hurt her._

Izumi trembled beneath him, and the thought crossed his mind that she might be afraid of him. She might be scared that he would hurt her again. Zuko felt sick.

“I heard a scream,” a voice chimed in, sounding muffled. “What happened?”

Zuko registered his husband dropping down beside their daughter. Sokka’s expert hands found their place on her back, gently turning her over and checking for what was wrong.

“I’m sorry,” Zuko managed to choke out, though he wasn’t even sure if it was audible. The sound of blood rushing in his ears was all he could really hear. “I—I have to…” He cut himself off, using Sokka’s shoulder as leverage to hoist himself up. Ignoring the pain in his left ankle at every step, he hurriedly limped out of the room, not paying much attention to where he was headed.

Izumi’s shriek echoed in his ears, the noise building and building until it morphed into another familiar sound. Zuko’s throat ached with the memory of his own scream, ripped from his throat by his own father. The scar on his face throbbed as he remembered the pain of having his face burned off, deliberately and methodically. He remembered the slow process of healing, the skin raw and tender, marring his face with an ugly and frightening reminder of what had been done.

He wondered if he had just cursed his daughter to a lifetime of avoiding mirrors. A lifetime of phantom pains whenever a memory resurfaced. A lifetime of hating her father.

Zuko heaved in a ragged breath, stumbling into the first room he found. It was a small study, and he managed to make it behind the desk before he collapsed entirely. He leaned back against the wall and buried his face in his hands as he sobbed.

He wasn’t sure how long he had been there, but Zuko’s crying had subsided into the occasional, erratic gasp by the time there was a knock on the door. He numbly turned his head in time to see Sokka peak in. His husband looked briefly concerned upon seeing him on the floor, but quickly schooled his expression to be more neutral.

“Hey,” Sokka greeted, walking up slowly and sitting down beside him. “I was worried about you.”

“Sorry,” Zuko whispered, looking down at his hands resting in his lap. His bottom lip quivered slightly. “Izumi…?”

“She’s fine, Zuko,” he replied, and Zuko felt his body sag with relief. “She told me what happened.”

“I thought I hurt her,” Zuko mumbled, nausea building in his stomach again. He swallowed down the acid at the back of his throat and closed his eyes. “I felt like…”

“You’re nothing like him,” Sokka said immediately. Of course he’d know exactly where Zuko’s mind was going. “Izumi was reacting to the fire, not to _you_. You don’t scare her at all. She loves you.”

“What if she’s scared of me now? You didn’t see the look on her face.” Izumi’s wide, frightened eyes flashed in his mind, and Zuko felt another wave of shame wash over him.

Sokka sighed. “The first thing she said when she stopped crying was ‘ _where’s Daddy?’_ ” At the hand on his knee, Zuko looked at his husband, whose eyes were filled with a fondness Zuko didn’t often think he deserved. “She _loves_ you. Now can I let her in? She’s in the hallway and probably losing her mind with worry right now.”

“Does she even want to see me?” Zuko asked.

“I had to beg her to wait out there while I came in first. I had to promise extra dessert tonight before she agreed.” They shared a smile, and Zuko felt a chuckle bubble past his lips before he remembered he was supposed to be feeling guilty.

“Okay,” he whispered, nerves still eating him up. Hearing it from Sokka was one thing, but he still wasn’t convinced the five year-old wouldn’t be at least a little scared of him.

Sokka nodded and stood up. “I’ll let you two have a minute while I get something to wrap _that_ ,” he said, pointing to Zuko’s ankle. It was swollen, a purple splotch just beginning to form. Zuko grimaced, finally starting to feel the throbbing from what was _definitely_ a bad sprain.

Sokka opened the door, and Zuko saw him squat down, voice quiet as he spoke with someone. When he stood back up and left, Zuko saw Izumi’s tiny frame come into the room.

Zuko had only a split second to worry about if she was afraid of him before the girl sprinted across the room and launched herself into his lap. He wrapped his arms around her tightly, feeling like he was about to burst at the seams with relief.

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” Izumi said into his chest, and he shook his head.

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for,” he replied softly. He didn’t ever want her to feel like his own actions were her fault.

Zuko gently pulled Izumi off of him and looked her over. Sokka had said she was fine, but he had to make sure. His hands roamed over her face, her hair, her shoulders, checking for anything out of place. She seemed completely fine, much to his relief.

“I’m sorry for scaring you,” he said, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“That’s okay! I know it was an accident,” she said brightly, and Zuko thought he might melt at how sure she sounded.

Just then, a light knock at the door signaled that Sokka was back. He came in and situated himself near Zuko’s outstretched legs, pulling out gauze and setting to work.

“Daddy’s hurt,” Izumi announced, frowning at the growing bruise on his ankle.

“Yeah,” Sokka replied, gently wrapping the injury, “but he’ll be okay. We’re here to take care of him.”

Izumi nodded seriously and turned back to Zuko, her expression full of curiosity.

“Why did you run away and hide?” she asked, and Zuko felt his cheeks heat. He sounded a little pathetic when she put it like that. He swallowed thickly.

“I thought I hurt you,” he explained, then after a moment’s hesitation he added, “and I got scared.”

“Why were you scared?” Her head tilted, and she looked so innocently curious that Zuko felt a twisting in his gut. He looked over at Sokka, who had finished wrapping his ankle. He squeezed the calf muscle above the injury and nodded reassuringly.

Zuko sighed. “My father wasn’t very good to me. He hurt me, and when I thought I hurt you, it reminded me of him.” He smoothed a hand over her hair to distract himself and remind himself that he was here, with his family, and everyone was okay.

“He hurt you?” Izumi asked, her voice impossibly small.

“Yes,” Zuko said. He lifted a hand and tapped at the edge of his scar. “He burned me when I was little.”

“On accident?”

Zuko smiled sadly and shook his head, and Izumi’s eyes filled with a sorrow he had never seen in her before. She reached forward, her tiny hand resting on his scar. Her touch was gentle, like she knew it was something fragile that needed to be handled with care. After a moment, she leaned in and placed a small kiss near his eye, then wrapped her arms around his neck in a big hug.

“You’ll be okay, Daddy,” she said, certainty lacing her words. “We’re here to take care of you.”

Zuko hugged Izumi tightly, looking up at the ceiling to try and blink the tears away. The lump in his throat grew painful, and it became impossible to ignore when Sokka scooted over to press up beside him, wrapping his arms around the both of them.

He closed his eyes as the first tears fell, and with his husband and his daughter holding him close with the promise of care, Zuko felt that perhaps he had grown into a better man than his father after all.


End file.
